Wild Bear, Chapter 1: The Guards
by An Asteroid's Belt
Summary: Tjorborn was just a regular caravan guard with a tragic story. Losing his mother at an early age, and having a strict father has never been easy on him. But, now he's the Dragon Born? Huh. Join Tjorborn, Ja'liir, Miora, Gorlock, Norin and Floria on a quest to defeat Aludin, and save Nirn.


"Must we really guard this fool?" The armored broad shoulder'ed man asked. "Yes, you baboon." Another wiser looking man replied.

"Really? We are in the middle of no-where, guarding a stupid caravan, and we barely get paid!" the broad shoulder'ed man complained.

"Listen, you whimpering fool! We do get paid. We get paid good coin! Now, shut your stupid mouth, and keep walking." the wiser looking man snapped.

"What are you're thoughts on this stupid caravan, Tjorborn?" the broad shoulder'ed man asked.

"I'm on Ferin's side, we do get paid good coin, and you need to be quiet. Please, Jorer." Tjorborn answered Jorer.

"Ugh. "Be quiet", aye? Well, maybe you should look at how old and stupid Ferin is, instead of always choosing his side, Tjorborn." Jorer grunted. "Shut up back there." Ferin said, leading in front of the caravan. "Maybe you should just do your job, Jorer. Don't worry, soon you will get the riches you desire." Tjorborn said, tiredly, and looking down to the snow.

"I'm too tired for these arguments. Should we ask Sir Gerald if we can stop, and get some rest?" inquired Tjorborn. "That's a great idea my boy." Ferin said, his old eyes almost closing from tiredness. "Well, I shouldn't ask, so you do it Tjorborn." Jorer said, his legs obviously weak.

Tjorborn approached the back of the caravan, knocking on the thin wooden door. "Hm? What is it, peasant?" Sir Gerald asked. "May we stop for a couple hours? It's almost night, and our legs are tired. To truly assure your safety, we must be well rested, Sir." Tjorborn nervously asked. "Ugh! Fine, peasant. Set up a fire, but you'll only get exactly five hours to rest. Use that time wisely, now leave me be, peasant!" Sir Gerald shouted.

Tjorborn walked back to the front of the caravan, where Ferin and Jorer were. "So, did he say yes?" Jorer inquired. "Yes. Only five hours though, let's rest and eat." Tjorborn responded. The three men walked astray of the path, and began to make a fire from sticks. The snow was restless, the attempts to make the fire were futile. Finally, Ferin used his almighty Nordic knowledge on snow, and made an almost perfect small fire.

They all sat around the fire, and ate whatever they had in their supply packs. Ferin had charred Skeever hide, and a loaf of bread. Jorer had cooked beef, and some wine. And Tjorborn, well, he had a small meal of only a quarter of a sweet roll, and half a Venison chop.

"What happened to the rest of your supplies, Tjorborn? I thought you brought the most, you had three bags!" Ferin asked, ready to offer Tjorborn some of his Charred Skeever. "Well, I think I lost most of it, and the parts I have left are all moldy. Damn Sir Gerald, doesn't even give us damn proper food." Tjorborn said, his stomach rumbling.

"Well, i'm happy to lend you some charred Skeever. Do you want some?" Ferin inquired. "No, Ferin, you need it more than me." Tjorborn responded, just now beginning to eat his fraction of a proper meal.

Two hours had passed, and they were all fast asleep in their sleeping rolls. Rattling could be heard from the shrine nearby, waking Tjorborn up. He slowly rubbed his closed eyes, than opened them to see a Khajiit searching around the caravan. "What the?" Tjorborn mumbled, his eyes still tired, and almost closed. The Khajiit woman heard that mumble, and quickly packed the stolen goods from the caravan, and put them in a bag resting over her shoudler.

"Hey!" Tjorborn shouted, scrambling to get his sword and steel armor on. "Huh?" the Khajiit woman said, now sliding into the shadows, unseen by Tjorborn. "Hey! Get back here, thief!" Tjorborn now had his sword and shield, armor, and was now ready to face the stealthy thief. He didn't bother to wake Ferin or Jorer up, thinking that they would not believe him. So, alone, Tjorborn approached the caravan, and searched around.

"Hey, thief, I won't hurt you if you just hand those items back to me! They are property of Sir Gerald, one of the most important royalty in all of Tamriel!" Tjorborn stated, trying to intimidate the thief into giving the stolen items back. "Come peacefully, or I'll kill you-" a sliding of urns could be heard. Tjorborn spun around, inspecting the broken urns.

"Me? Hand over these riches to you? If this "Sir Gerald" is as important as you say, these items will fetch me some good coin." the woman's voice could be heard, but she was no-where to be seen. "You can't even find me, you blistered brute. So why do you think you could kill me?" the voice spoke again, still no-where to be seen. "Maybe, we could make a trade." the woman said, out of Tjorborn's sight, and in the shadows.

"What sort of trade?" Tjorborn inquired, spinning almost everywhere to find the Khajiit. "I keep the riches, and your friends don't die. Or, I can slaughter your friends, and you can get your desired items." The woman said, now right next to Ferin, and Jorer, two knifes to their necks. Tjorborn spun around, his sword ready, seeing the woman and teh knifes against their necks.

"Get away from them!" Tjorborn demanded, the knifes getting closer to their necks. "Your choice, brute." the woman said, her evil voice sending a shiver down Tjorborn's spine. "Fine! Take the damn riches. Leave them be!" Tjorborn snapped at the woman.

"Wise choice. They will be left unharmed." the woman said, bringing the knifes into her pockets, and picking her bag filled with goods up, flinging it over her shoulder.

"Hm. Well, goodbye-" A massive roar could be heard, waking Ferin and Jorer from their deep sleep. "The hell was that? Tjorborn?" Jorer asked, yawning. Tjorborn did not answer, looking at the lady gazing into the sky, wondering what that roar was. Tjorborn took his chance, and tackled the dazed lady, her bag and her smashing to the ground. Tjorborn gripped her arms, holing her down with a grip like a stone on soft paper.

"What? What are you doing Tjorborn, leave the lady alone!" Ferin demanded, rising from his sleeping bag. "She's a thief, Jorer, grab the bag, Ferin, help me hold her down-" the woman kneed Tjorborn in the stomach, escaping his stone-tight grasp. She ran to get the bag, but Jorer already had it in his clutches, his sword in his other hand.

The woman tried to run, but Ferin blocked her path, and grabbed her by her left arm. Tjorborn grabbed her right arm, and they began to tug on her to get her down. A knife slid from her right gauntlet, cutting Tjorborn's hand, and releasing her self from his grip. With her now free hand, she struck a blow into Ferin's nose, makingg him stumble back, losing grip of the girl.

The huge roar could be heard again, dazing the woman once again. More roars kept coming, making the girl lookin in all directions to find where it was coming from. A final roar could be heard, a giant scaled and spiked dragon came out from behind the hills, and landed in front of the girl, making her fall back.

This was no ordinary dragon, this was Alduin. The world eater. The Nordic god of destruction.


End file.
